Tis the Season to be Random
by helotastic
Summary: From awkward mistletoe encounters to drunken house-elves to overprotective dads, here are 25 fun Christmas one-shots spanning several decades of holiday cheer. Marauders, Golden Trio, New Generation, etc. Will be updated once a day until Christmas.
1. 1977: Mistletoe is Overrated

December 1: 1977

_24 days until Christmas…_

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><p>Lily sighed and slumped onto the floor. Ten more minutes. She might as well be comfortable. But sitting on the floor attracted more attention, which she definitely didn't need. Lily Evans, the crazy-redhead-who-won't-go-out-with-James-Potter-as-hot-as-he-is-and-spends-her-time-sitting-on-freezing-cold-stone-floors.<p>

It had a nice ring to it. Not.

And being humiliated and then mercilessly reminded of this for her last year at Hogwarts?

Of course, if she wasn't so proud, she wouldn't be in this situation anyway…

"_And if you're wrong?" Alice asked._

"_I'm not," Lily replied confidently._

"_Well, if you're so sure about it," Alice said, starting to smile. "You have to stand under the mistletoe in the entry hall for an hour when -not if- you lose." Lily opened her mouth to protest but Alice held up a hand. "I'm not done. I get to glue your feet to the floor with a sticking charm to make sure you stay."_

"_No way," Lily refused. "Best mates don't do that to each other."_

"_Is someone scared they're wrong?" Alice teased._

"_Of course not! But if you lose, I get to do the same thing to you," Lily bargained._

"_It's a deal."_

She lost the bet. Stupid Gryffindor team letting Ravenclaw steal the snitch.

She stood up to stretch her legs and lean against the wall.

"Evans?"

Lily's head turned towards the voice. "Potter?"

"If you don't mind me asking… what are you doing?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she said.

They stood facing each other stubbornly.

"Fine. I lost a bet," Lily admitted. "Now go away."

"A bet?" Potter echoed. "What-" His eyes flickered upwards to the neat bouquet of mistletoe. "Oh."

She glanced at the clock again. Two more minutes, and Potter didn't seem like he was going anywhere.

More silence.

"I think my hour is over," Lily said out loud to no one in particular.

He stepped towards her. She inched away from him warily.

"Relax," he laughed. "I know the countercharm for this."

With a few flicks of his wrist, she felt her feet separate from the cobbled stone.

"Um, thanks. I'd better get back to my dorm now."

"I'll walk you back," Potter offered.

"Oh, no need to trouble yourself."

"Lily, we live in the same tower."

It was saying her first name that did it.

Since when did he not call her "Evans?" Come to think of it, he'd been nice all year, and not only to her. He wasn't shirking his Head Boy duties or hexing first years or, she realized with a start, asking her out every other day.

"Why didn't you do it?" she demanded, turning on him.

He looked confused and maybe even a bit scared. Yes, arrogant, conceited James Potter was scared. "What do you mean?"

"Kissed me. I was standing under the mistletoe. My feet were stuck to the floor. You could've done it."

He looked away. "I didn't want it to be like that. I didn't want to force you into kissing me if you didn't want to."

She digested this as he told the Fat Lady the password and helped her into the common room.

"Thanks for… you know," Lily hesitated. "And I think I owe you one now."

"What?"

Before she could change her mind, she grabbed his tie, pulled his face to hers, and kissed him.

Then she was gone, a flash of dark red hair sprinting up the staircase as James stood in shock.

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><p><strong>Review, flame, put me on story alert: it's all much appreciated.<strong>


	2. 2019: The Sweaters

**Thanks for the awesome response! Every review is like an early Christmas present.**

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><p><span>December 2: 2019<span>

_23 days until Christmas…_

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><p>"Oi, Joe," a dark figure whispered, shaking what looked like a lump of dirty blankets. "Wake up, someone's coming."<p>

Joe emerged from his sleeping bag, stretching and yawning.

A tall, athletic girl was nearing their home under the bridge, glancing from side to side cautiously as she clutched a dark purple bundle to her chest. Her curly red hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and her disheveled coat suggested she was in a rush.

After another wary scan of the area, she darted towards them.

"Good morning," she greeted them, smiling hesitantly. "I have this extra sweater to spare, and was wondering if you might want-"

"Yes!"

The girl sighed in relief. "Merry Christmas, then."

She dumped a woolly lavender sweater at the two hobos' feet and hurried off.

"Well, that was strange," the hobo named Joe said. "Who do you think should get it, Billy?"

Billy looked over Joe's shoulder with astonishment. "I don't think that's going to be a problem."

This had to be a new record. Two normal citizens visiting the same homeless blokes on Christmas day? Billy tapped the side of his head, wondering if his hallucinations were working up again.

But there he was, clear as day: a raven-haired teen -more of a boy, really- with startlingly green eyes framed by round glasses. "Would either one of you happen to need a sweater?"

"We already-OW!" Joe yelped, as Billy kicked him.

"What he means is, we'd be happy to have it," Billy told the stranger politely. He grabbed the jade-green sweater eagerly. "Merry Christmas, kid!"

"You, too!" the stranger called over his shoulder as he left.

"I want the green one!" Joe demanded, reaching for it.

Billy slapped his hands away. "No way, Jose!"

"My name is Joe!"

"Aggh, never mind!"

"But," Joe pouted. "I want the pretty sweater!"

"Oh, shut up," Billy snapped.

"Do I get your sweater?" Joe asked.

"For Pete's sake, forget about the sweater!"

"My name isn't Pete, either!"

Billy closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened them, Joe was still there. Unfortunately. "Fine, you can have the sweater." Joe squealed like a little girl.

"But," Billy said. "Anything else that we get today is mine."

Guess who got the better end of that deal?


	3. 1997: Lights Will Guide You Home

**Thanks for the reviews!**

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><p><span>December 3: 1997<span>

_22 days until Christmas…_

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><p><em>I'm staying. I'm staying.<em>

Her words echoed in his head. Bouncing around, turning his field of vision red. He was walking off angrily, crashing through trees, as Hermione cried out for him.

_Ron, come back!_

He didn't glance backwards, didn't even slow down.

And she was crying. Because of him. Because he had hurt her.

He tried going back, but they were gone. Where did they go? Was she safe? Did she miss him? Or were she and Harry laughing at how stupid their friend had been?

The pounding of sea on sand outside Shell Cottage greeted Ron as he woke up. He lay staring at the whitewashed ceiling for the longest time before dragging himself out of bed. Sleepily, he flipped on the antiquated wooden radio sitting on his nightstand.

"This is Keith Rulyd, and we'll be back with more music right after the break: Celestina Warbeck, the Weird Sisters, and more. So stay tuned!" the radio blared.

"Ron."

He froze. It had been Hermione's voice. He'd know it anywhere.

"Ron…wand…broken…"

It was coming from his pocket, Ron realized, yanking out his Deluminator.

He clicked it, and the lamp on the dresser went out. But outside the window…

There was a round sphere of blue light, pulsating like a Portkey, beckoning him.

He nearly tripped over his own feet running downstairs.

Bill and Fleur were at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and talking in hushed voices.

"I have to leave," Ron blurted out.

Fleur looked up. "Whaz do you mean?"

"I have to," Ron forced himself to meet Bill's eyes. "I have to go back to Harry and Hermione. I think they need me."

"Your stuff's cleaned and everything. It's in the mudroom," Bill nodded. "Go do what you have to do."

"Bill! How could you…" Ron heard Fleur protesting as he grabbed his rucksack and hurried outside. But there was no time to waste.

The light was still waiting for him. As if sensing his presence it began to move towards the shed. Ron followed it cautiously, but he somehow knew that it wouldn't harm him. That it was just another thing Dumbledore had planned for all along.

He rounded the corner of the shack and stopped short. The light was floating towards him. Should he follow it? And then it floated right into his chest.

The unexpected warmth was a sharp contrast from the frigid air. It was the kind of feeling you got after downing five Butterbeers in a row. The kind of feeling he got when he heard Hermione's laugh or felt her soft touch. When she rolled her eyes at him when he was stupid or smiled when they danced.

He realized in his heart that wherever he went, he wouldn't be home until he was with her.

The Portkey light's warmth spread through him, from his fingertips to toes, and he knew what he had to do.

He closed his eyes and Disapparated.


	4. 1991: Perilous Career Choices

December 4: 1991

_21 days until Christmas…_

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><p>"I have the greatest prank ever," Fred declared, dumping his schoolbag on the couch next to his twin.<p>

It was a relaxed winter day that drifted along like the snowflakes riding the breeze outside. Inside the Gryffindor tower's stone walls, students filled the common room, reading, doing homework, or just hanging out with friends.

"You said the Potions prank of '89 would be the greatest prank ever, and you remember how _that_ turned out," George said.

Fred waved it off. "We had to work through some… obstacles, but at least we got the Marauder's Map."

"So what is it this time?" Lee Jordan asked eagerly.

Fred grinned, his eyes shining as he outlined their plan.

In exactly fifteen minutes, the three had two hard-packed snowballs bewitched with a Freezing Charm.

"Now remember," Fred said, "when Quirrell comes out of his office, he turns to the left. George, you use a weak Sticking Charm and then hide. He'll never know what hit him."

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><p>It was dark in Quirrell's turban. Dark and musty and strongly scented with garlic.<p>

Voldemort wrinkled up his nonexistent nose and tried to think happy thoughts. Fluffy, innocent bunnies dripping with blood… Muggles keeling over from Justin Bieber overdose.

It was still very dark and scary. Plus now he had to sneeze.

_Ah-ah-_ No! He couldn't blow his secret agent mission. Er- he meant he couldn't blow his diabolical plans to rule the world.

_Ah-ah- _CURSE QUIRRELL AND HIS SNEEZE-INDUCING GARLIC TURBAN!

"Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?" Voldemort hummed to himself, trying not to sneeze. "Spongebo- Oof."

Out of nowhere, something smacked into his face. Again. And again.

It was amazing how much a nonexistent nose could be in pain.

"Sorry, Master," Quirrell murmured.

Voldemort sighed. Don't sneeze. Ouch, that hurt. Don't sneeze. Ouch, that hurt. Why is it so dark and scary? Don't sneeze. Darkness. Ouch, that hurt. I want my mommy.

The path to evil villain is never easy.

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><p><strong>This chapter was inspired by a line in the first Harry Potter book: "The Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban." I didn't pay much attention my first time reading it, but now that I've finished the series, it makes me laugh every time.<strong>


	5. 1997: Better Than Nargles

December 5: 1997

_20 days until Christmas…_

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><p>"Wow, did you do all this?" Ginny asked in astonishment, peering through the door and taking in the leafy garlands and silver baubles strewn around the Room of Requirement.<p>

Neville pulled at his collar uncomfortably. "Luna helped, too."

Luna smiled absentmindedly. "Yes. It was fun."

"All right, I have to go see if the others have come," Ginny said, "But thanks. It looks a lot happier, and we could definitely do with some more holiday cheer."

She disappeared around the corner, leaving Luna and Neville standing alone.

"Mistletoe," Neville blurted into the silence, plucking up all his courage to take a step towards Luna.

She looked up. "Oh, we'd better move."

"Um… yeah," Neville stammered, taking a step backwards and blushing.

Luna nodded. "Mistletoe is often home to Nargles. Very itchy and distracting."

A serene smile curled up the corners of her mouth as she fixed her eyes on him. "But you weren't thinking about Nargles, were you?"

"No," Neville confessed. "Not really."

She cocked her head to the side, her radish earrings swinging. "How strange. I've never been in love before. It feels like Wrackspurts floating around my heart."

"We're about to start the meeting," Ginny announced. "C'mon, you two."

Neville held his hand out to Luna, and she intertwined her fingers with his as they walked into the Room of Requirement.

It wasn't what he had in mind, Neville reflected, but it was just as good.

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><p><strong>Oh, Luna.<strong>** Never afraid to speak her mind. *cough cough unlike some people who show up on story traffic stats but don't leave a review cough cough***


	6. 1990: Last Christmas

December 6: 1980

_19 days until Christmas…_

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><p>It was certainly an odd party of people that stood in the Potters' living room that Christmas.<p>

A large black dog was crouching on the floor, playing with a round-faced child who had the bright green eyes of his mother.

The child reached out and pulled on the dog's ear, and suddenly a handsome, dark-skinned man was sitting on the rug.

"Sirius!" a red-haired woman scolded, entering the room with a tray of pigs in blankets.

"Ah, just in time with the food, love," Sirius replied, stuffing two pieces into his mouth as she rolled her eyes.

"C'mere, Harry," said the boy's father. He stopped over to pick up the baby.

"Da!" Harry giggled, grabbing a handful of the man's tousled black hair.

He winced. "Ouch! No, please don't."

Sirius grinned. "Ah, James. If only you had taken my advice and stayed single."

"If only you had taken my advice and gotten married," the man named James mimicked, pulling the pretty redhead onto the couch next to him. "Best thing I ever did."

"Aww, that's so sweet," she said, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head in the crook of his neck.

"Built in chef, maid, and personal assistant," James said smugly. She pulled away and he laughed. "Just kidding, Lils."

She lifted Harry into her lap and glared at James. "Don't call me Lils."

"I'm sorry and I love you very much," James recited obediently.

Sirius gave a laugh that sounded more like a bark.

"Wonder when Remus is going to get here," James said, checking his watch.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

Sirius jumped up. "I'll get it!"

Remus came into the room carrying a few packages of supplies, which he gave to Lily. "Dumbledore asked me to give this to you. It's a Christmas present from your sister."

"Knowing her, I don't think I'm going to like it," Lily sighed, tucking it away under the tree. "Did you come with Peter?"

"Nah, he said he had some important things to do." Remus settled himself in an armchair and nibbled on some chocolate.

It was the kind of Christmas you have in movies.

James sat on the sofa with Harry on his lap and one arm around Lily's shoulders. Sirius tilted his chair back with his feet up on the coffee table. Remus rested his chin on his hand as he stared into the synthetic fire. The tinsel-covered Christmas tree provided a warm backdrop for it all.

A perfect Christmas.

None of them knew that for two of them, it would be their last.


	7. 2009: Spoiled

**344 visitors, but only 23 reviews... Don't you guys know how it feels to get excited when you open your email and find new reviews for your story waiting? Are you really cruel enough to deny someone the simple joy of a few kind words? It only takes a few seconds to tell someone you liked their story, but the compliment stays with them all day, boosting their self-confidence and keeping a smile on their face. Is it that hard to please leave a review? *sigh* I'm done being a bitter, whiny person now. Enjoy the chappie! :D**

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><p><span>December 7: 2009<span>

_18 days until Christmas…_

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><p>"Mum, when I grow up, I'm going to be a Quidditch player," James said, reluctantly accepting his mother's hand as they pushed through a large crowd of shoppers outside Madam Malkin's.<p>

"That's nice," Ginny said. "Do you know what team you want to play for?"

"The Chudley Cannons," the six-year-old said proudly. "They're going to win this season, Al!"

His younger brother blinked uninterestedly as Harry laughed. "Who told you they were going to win?"

"Uncle Ron."

Harry and Ginny exchanged amused smiles over their two sons' heads.

"Hey, look!" James shouted, pulling away from his family and running up to press his nose against the glass of Quality Quidditch supplies. "A Sparkshooter 360! Can I _pleeeaaase_ have one?"

"Why don't you ask Father Christmas to bring you one?" Ginny suggested.

James rolled his eyes. "But Christmas is ages away and I need a new broom now!"

"There's nothing wrong with your old one."

James sighed. "I suppose it would be fine… if only it wasn't from the time of the dinosaurs."

"Time of the dinosaurs?" Harry asked, shaking his head. "We bought that for your birthday last year!"

"That's why it's already fallen behind, dad," James explained. "The new model is twice as efficient and features a unique one touch braking system. It's the only one of its kind on the market!"

Ginny pried him away from the store window. "All right, who let you read Quidditch Illustrated?"

"Uncle Ron."

Harry stifled a laugh and swung Albus onto his shoulders as Ginny followed behind, trying to reason with James.

"Excuse me- Oh, good morning!" Ron said, avoiding a collision with the family as he stepped out of Tirkin's Toys and Trinkets.

"Oh, this must be Albus and James." Hermione held Rose with one hand while ruffling the boys' hair affectionately with the other. "Look how tall you are!"

James stood up proudly. "I know. I'm a big boy now but mum and dad won't buy me a new broom."

"That's silly," Ron reassured him. "Of course they will. Every growing boy needs one."

Ginny glared at her brother, as if to say _don't encourage him_.

"What?" Ron said innocently.

Ginny bent down to James. "Or you know what? Uncle Ron will buy you your broom this year."

"Really?" James bounced up and down on his tiptoes.

Ron tried to smile, but failed. "Uh…" James's shoulders sagged. "Yeah, I'll buy you a broom."

"Yeah!" James skipped down Diagon Alley, fist pumping the air.

His mother smirked.

Final Score: Ron- 0, Ginny- beyond counting.


	8. 1984: Wishes Unwished

December 8: 1984

_17 days until Christmas…_

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><p>"And I want a new electric car and a TV set and a light saber," four-year-old Dudley dictated. "Are you writing this down, mummy?"<p>

Petunia looked up from her paper and smiled indulgently at her son. "Yes, diddykins."

"Make sure you remember the air rifle and new gaming system," Dudley commanded.

"Of course. Nothing but the best for my little pumpkin."

Harry coughed.

His aunt's head swiveled to the doorway of the den like a hawk. "What do you want?"

"I… I thought maybe I'd give you my Christmas list."

"Isn't that sweet?" Petunia said sarcastically.

Dudley's eyes widened, signaling a tantrum. "NO! If you buy him gifts I'll get less! No! Throw it away!"

Petunia pulled him to her and stroked his back. "Oh, Duddykins, don't worry." Over Dudley's fat shoulder, she gave Harry the evil eye. "Come here, boy."

Harry took stiff steps towards her until he was close enough for her to snatch his list away.

With exaggerated motions, she tore it into miniscule pieces and placed it in the ashtray. "There, my ickle Dudleykins. Don't worry, mommy loves you."

Dudley stopped sniveling. "Okay, then I also want a dog and a new dirt bike…"

Quietly, Harry slipped out of the room and ran down the hallway into his cupboard.

It was the last time he wrote a Christmas wish list.


	9. 1999: Turn

December 9: 1999

_16 days until Christmas…_

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><p>"Snowflaaaaakes in the chilly air," Molly sang along to the radio.<p>

Fleur abruptly stood up. "I think I'll go check on Teddy and Victoire."

"I'll come with you," Ginny said quickly, shuddering as Celestina Warbeck hit another high note. "They probably need diaper changes anyway."

Ron waited until his mother was in the kitchen of the Burrow before switching off the radio with a relieved sigh.

"So, George, how are things at the store?" Bill asked.

"Pretty quiet, actually." George said, putting his arm around Angelina. "We've been busy trying to find a new house."

"We?" his wife repeated, laughing, "More like just me rambling about square meters and pretty views while you nod and give me vacant looks."

George ducked his head. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

Harry arrived in the room and draped his coat over a chair. "Merry Christmas, everyone."

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, descending the stairs with Teddy on her hip. She kissed his cheek. "Where were you?"

"Long day at the Auror office," Harry admitted. "Where's Andromeda?"

"Probably stressing out at home. I had to convince her to let me babysit Teddy today. Which, by the way, is now your job." Ginny passed the turquoise-haired toddler over to Harry with a light laugh and went to go help in the kitchen.

Within an hour, the entire Weasley clan had arrived. Percy started a loud discussion with his Muggle fiancée Audrey on the effectiveness of tax audits while Bill, Charlie, George, and Ron played a game of two-aside Quidditch in the rapidly dimming sunlight.

"Who wants some cookies?" Hermione's voice rang from the dining room.

Ron Apparated to the table at once, while Hermione shook her head disapprovingly. "I went to the store, I bought the dough, I brought it home, and I baked the cookies all by myself. I think only I should get to eat any."

"What?" Ron asked, spraying the table with cookie crumbs.

Hermione threw a napkin at him. "The Little Red Hen. It's a Muggle thing."

"And if we all lived by that philosophy, dearie, half this family would starve," Molly commented, placing a dish of chocolate trifle on the table. She spun around at the kitchen door and shook her finger. "Wait until everyone gets here!"

George hastily withdrew his hand. "Merlin, it's like she has eyes in the back of her head."

"And super sensitive hearing, too!" Molly called from the kitchen.

"I think all mothers are like that," Hermione mused.

George couldn't help beaming at Angelina as he nodded, as if to say, "_It's now or never_."

She took a deep breath. "Well I guess we're about to find out… because, well, I'm going to be a mother soon."

There was a split second of silence and then the dining room exploded.

Ginny started hugging Angelina like there was no tomorrow. "You have no idea how freaking happy I am for you right now!" she shrieked.

Angelina hugged her back with equal fervor. "I know! I'm so excited!"

Ron clapped George on the back. "Bloody hell! I'm going to an uncle!"

"I don't know whether to cry or laugh right now." Molly covered her mouth with her hand and clutched Arthur for support.

And if someone had passed by the Burrow that evening, they would've seen a house with fifteen -and a half- celebrating Weasleys.

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><p><strong>I have no idea where the last part came from. <strong>**XD ****I'm pretty much making up these little stories as I go along. **

**Every review is cherished dearly!**


	10. 1943: Mistletoephobia

December 10: 1943

_15 days until Christmas…_

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><p>"<em>Tom, m'boy!" Professor Slughorn boomed, engulfing the skinny teenager in a one armed hug. "You still haven't replied to my Christmas party invitation."<em>

"_Uh, of course I'm going," Tom said without thinking. "Must have lost the invitation."_

"_See you tonight, then!" Slughorn waddled off, his double -no, quintuple- chin wagging back and forth._

Tom groaned at the memory and took another mince pie from the trays being hoisted around the room by costumed house elves.

"And this here is Devyn Pierre, the editor-in-chief of Witch Weekly," Slughorn introduced a tall, willowy blonde to Cynthia Parker.

Cynthia Parker!

Tom dropped his mince pie on the floor, where it was quickly swept away by a passing house elf.

He cast about for an escape, but it was too late.

"Heeeeyy, Tom," she drawled, leaning against the wall to show off her hourglass figure. Or maybe to support herself on her needle thin high heels. He honestly couldn't tell and didn't care.

"Having a good time?" he offered lamely, sidestepping around her.

She shifted closer, effectively trapping him in the alcove like a cat corners a mouse. "I'm having a better time now."

"I saw you talking to that woman from Witch Weekly," he said, wondering if it was possible to shove her out of the way and run back to the Slytherin common room without drawing unwanted attention and still remaining Slughorn's favorite. Probably not.

"She thinks I might have what it takes to do modeling. What do you think?" Cynthia giggled and smiled adoringly at him through her thick eyelashes.

"I guess."

Her glossed lips formed a small pout. "Is something bothering you?"

_Besides you?_ he thought darkly.

The band struck up a slow ballad and Cynthia grabbed his hand. "Ooh, I love this song! C'mon!"

"I don't dance," Tom tried to protest, but it was too late.

Slughorn twirled by, casting an approving glance in Tom's direction. "That's the spirit! I always say you never let yourself have any fun."

Tom grimaced, hoping Slughorn meant Cynthia, who seemed to be having the time of her life.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and flashed him a dazzling smile. "Now you put your hands on my waist."

"I what?"

"Hands on my waist," she hissed.

Stiffly, he forced his hands to obey.

She sighed, "Not the best dancer, but maybe better with other things." She gave him a flirtatious smirk.

They swayed and turned to the music, with Cynthia leading them around the dance floor.

"Mistletoe," she announced, pointing upwards with one hand.

Tom couldn't see how a common potions ingredient was special enough to be pointed out. "So?"

Another gloss-covered pout. "You know what mistletoe means, right?"

"I honestly don't."

"It means the couple under it has to kiss, silly."

Tom masked his panic with a disgusted expression. "That's the most stupid thing I've ever heard."

Cynthia ignored him and started leaning forward, her eyes closing.

He ducked out of the way just in time, making a beeline for the door and glancing behind to see Cynthia looking around in bewilderment.

And that's how the Dark Lord's phobia of mistletoe began.

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><p><strong>Don't you just love being mean to Voldy? I was reading the Half-Blood Prince last night and it described Tom Riddle as "dark and handsome, good looking." So of course I couldn't stop myself from writing this. Review!<strong>


	11. 2017: Like Mother, Like Daughter

**Merlin, I KNEW this would happen. I fell behind. But the good news is that I've written two chapters for today to make up for it. Yay!**

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><p><span>December 11: 2017<span>

_13 days until Christmas…_

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><p>The four common rooms of Hogwarts might have been filled with relaxed students showing off gifts and waiting for dinner, but beneath the stone floors was a kitchen busier than Grand Central during rush hour.<p>

"And they do this all without pay?" Rose asked incredulously as a house elf rushed by with a teetering tower of dirty dishes on its head.

Albus shrugged and stole a tart from a silver platter. It was quickly replaced by another house elf. "Yeah. So? Where'd you think the Christmas feast came from? Magic?" He laughed at his own joke, making Rose glare at him.

"I's'kay," Scorpius said thickly through a mouthful of pudding. "They don't mind, and hey, free food and labor!"

"That's so cruel! You're making them work on Christmas!" Rose accused.

"It's not our fault," Scorpius said, moving to make room for two house elves heaving a tureen of soup. "If you don't like it, you'll have to talk to McGonagall."

"I think I will," Rose snapped, marching out of the kitchens with her nose in the air.

None of them knew why Ron started laughing hysterically when he found out about their daughter's campaign for elf rights.


	12. 1994: Champions' Crush

December 12: 1994

_14 days until Christmas…_

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><p>"Pop quiz," Professor Sprout announced, walking around the greenhouse and passing out papers as the students groaned. "This one's for you, dear."<p>

Cho looked up. Was it just her imagination, or was Professor Sprout _smiling_?

Probably thinking about the failing grade I'm about to make, Cho thought.

Surprisingly, the test wasn't that hard, just a basic review of some plants they'd replanted last week.

Dyewood vines only grew in warm temperatures. Sugary water helped Moonlace grow.

Cho breezed through the test, circling answers with barely a pause.

She flipped to the last page and her heart nearly stopped.

**31. For Cho Chang: Will you go to the Yule Ball with Cedric Diggory?**

**[A] Yes**

**[B] No**

Her face felt like it would split from smiling so hard and she chose her answer.

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><p>"What did you get for number six?" Marietta asked worriedly as they filed out of Defense Against the Dark Arts.<p>

Cho shrugged. "No idea. I barely studied, I've been so busy."

"Oh, that's right," Erin teased. "You have to be ready for your date with Cedric."

"Cedric, I love you, darling," Stephanie cooed, kissing the air next to her.

Cho shoved them, laughing. "Oh, shut up."

"Er- Cho? Could I have a word with you?"

Erin, Marietta, and Stephanie started giggling loudly as Harry flushed beet red.

Cho ignored them. "Okay."

They walked around the corner to another corridor.

He turned around and almost bumped into her. "Er."

She waited.

"Wanergoballwime?" He blurted.

"Sorry?"

"Do you- do you want to go to the ball with me?"

She felt her ears get warm. "Oh! Oh Harry, I'm really sorry. I've already said I'll go with someone else."

"Oh." His face became closed off. "Oh, okay. No problem."

"I'm really sorry." Cho couldn't think of anything else to say.

His jaw was clenched as he focused on a spot over her head. "That's okay."

She shifted her weight to her other foot nervously. "Well-"

"Yeah."

"Well, bye," said Cho, turning to walk away.

She was almost around the corner when he called after her, "Who're you going with?"

"Cedric. Cedric Diggory."

"Oh, right."

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><p>"Something bothering you?" Cedric asked, with one hand on her back as they glided across the dance floor.<p>

She tore her gaze away from a very disappointed looking Harry and smiled. "No. Nothing at all."

* * *

><p><strong>Review if you wish someone would ask you out the way Cedric did. Review if you wish you had the guts to ask someone out the way Cedric did. Review if you're like me and would probably be as awkward as Harry. (:<strong>


	13. 2019: Daddy Said Stay Away From Juliet

December 13: 2019

_12 days until Christmas…_

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><p>"Rosie," Ron greeted cheerfully, taking his daughter's bag for her as she stepped off the train.<p>

"Hey, Dad," she said, hugging him. "You said it was okay for me to bring a friend to the Burrow for Christmas, right?"

"Of course," Hermione answered for him. "Who is it?"

Albus nudged Rose in the ribs. "I can already tell this is a bad idea. Why don't you let him come with me?"

"Your car has five seats."

"So?"

"Your family has five people!"

"Ohhhh," Albus said as if discovering the cure to cancer.

"And that is why you're not in Ravenclaw."

Ron interrupted them. "Who did you invite, anyway?"

"Well, it's kind of a long story, but-"

A blond boy walked up to the group. "Hey, you guys, I was looking for you."

"I told you to wait out of sight!" Rose groaned.

He smiled impishly. "I got bored."

"Uh- Mom, Dad, this is Scorpius Malfoy."

"Are we going now or what?" Scorpius called over his shoulder, already at the exit of the platform.

The pieces clicked together in Hermione's head an instant before Ron. "Protego!"

His body slammed into the sudden invisible barrier. "You made friends with a _Malfoy_? And invited him home for _Christmas_? Have I taught you nothing?"

"Ron," Hermione warned. "Don't make me use some very nasty jinxes on you. He's Rose's guest and you'll treat him like one."

"Ooh," Albus said. "Tension."

Rose glared at him. He backed away. "You know what? I think I'll be going now."

With a lot of threatening, coaxing, blackmail, and bribery, Hermione managed to get Ron to calm down enough to drive them to the Burrow, though his hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

As they clambered out of the car to let Nana Molly exclaim how thin they were getting, Ron placed a hand on Scorpius' arm to stop him. "Can I talk to you?"

Rose glanced back. "Want me to wait for you?"

Scorpius waved her on. "Go ahead. I'll be fine."

The look on her face clearly said she didn't think he would be fine, but she stepped into the house and shut the rusting screen door behind her.

"Don't get too friendly with Rose. I'm keeping my eye on you."

"Yessir," Scorpius replied. "I'd never hurt her intentionally."

Ron eyed the scrawny third year. "And how do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Because she's my best friend," Scorpius said boldly. "And I love her more than that."

"Alright," Ron said finally. What else could he say to that? As Scorpius walked towards the house, he added. "But remember I love her, too."

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><p><strong>Cheesiness. :P Not my best chapter, but review!<strong>


	14. 1968: The Bond of Sisterhood

December 14: 1968

_11 days until Christmas…_

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><p>"Lily, don't do that," Petunia said out of the corner of her mouth.<p>

Lily let the scrap of paper fluttering from hand to hand glide down the aisle.

"I said stop it!" Petunia whispered forcefully.

"Why? It's not hurting anyone," Lily reasoned.

Petunia reached over and yanked the paper away. "Mummy told you not to, and besides, someone might see." She glanced nervously around the small church, her blond braids thwacking Lily in the face.

"Petunia!" Lily whined.

Mrs. Evans gave her daughters a stern look.

Lily scowled and edged as far away from Petunia as possible for the rest of the preacher's droning sermon.

The sun was out, scattering iridescent sparkles over the snow, which was soon dirty and trampled as people left.

"I'm going to the lake to skate," Petunia announced.

Lily jumped up. "Ooh, me too!"

"_I'm_ going. I as in me, and just me," specified Petunia.

"Dad, I want to go, too!"

"Petunia, she only wants to come because she wants to be like you," Mr. Evans whispered, kneeling down so he was at her level. "That's how little sisters are."

"Well, I wish she wasn't my sister!"

Mr. Evans chuckled. "You don't really have a choice."

Petunia rolled her eyes. "Come on, Lily."

"Yay!" Lily shrieked, skipping alongside her all the way to the frozen stretch of ice.

"Stay near the edge," Petunia warned, lacing up her skates.

Lily wobbled unsteadily away from her older sister. "You can't tell me what to do!"

Petunia sighed and pushed off, gliding back and forth on the edge nearest the woods and practicing small leaps and twirls. Closing her eyes, she could imagine her skating teacher offering a steady stream of advice and encouragement.

_And three… two… one… jump! Good landing! Now turn to the right… Not too soon, dear._

She opened her eyes and realized she hadn't heard from Lily in a while.

"Petunia, look!" Lily called, waving as she skated in small circles in the center of the lake.

Petunia skidded to a halt. "Lily, get away from there!"

"You're not the boss of me!" Lily gave a small hop on her skates.

_Crack!_

And then Petunia was watching her little sister disappear beneath the ice.

"Lily!" she raced to the edge of the hole and kicked off her ice skates.

"Petunia, I'm scared!" Lily cried, coughing and spluttering in the freezing water.

_So am I!_ , Petunia wanted to yell, but she forced herself to stay calm.

"Grab my hand," she commanded, lying down on her stomach to distribute her weight on the thin ice.

Thank goodness, Lily had the sense to listen, and Petunia dragged her onto thicker ice.

"Don't you ever do that to me again!" Petunia said, taking off her coat and wrapping a very drenched Lily in it.

Lily looked about to cry as she said in a small voice. "I'm sorry."

"You better be."

The two girls trudged home. Mrs. Evans was frantic, but calmed when she decided that no lasting damage was done.

They were settling in for bed that night when Lily whispered across the room, "Petunia, I'm glad you're my sister."

Petunia smiled into the darkness. "Lily, I'm glad you're my sister, too."


	15. 1995: The Indestructible Fruitcake

December 15: 1995

_10 days until Christmas…_

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><p>"<em>Incendio!<em>" cried Bellatrix, jabbing her wand at the fruitcake on the Death Eater meeting table.

It was engulfed in tongues of fire, which quickly extinguished, leaving behind a pristine and untouched brick of flour and candied fruit.

Snape swept everyone else aside with a flourish of his cloak. "Allow me."

He gently tipped a bottle of a syrupy dark green potion onto the cake. It evaporated with a loud hiss as it touched the surface.

Lucius shoved him out of the way. "No, no, you're doing it all wrong. _Diffindo!_"

There was a loud crack as the table split. The fruitcake fell to the floor unharmed.

"_Crucio!_"

"_Stupefy!_"

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

"_Lumos!_"

Everyone stared at Peter, who held up his lit wand apologetically. "What? I don't know any fancy schmancy spells like you guys!"

"What is going on?" Voldemort bellowed, storming into the room in his evil-villain-dramatic-entrance. "I can't even hear the Sesame Street reruns over all the noise you imbeciles are making!"

Bellatrix bowed stiffly. "My Lord, we will be honored to silence ourselves so you can, er, watch your Sesame Street reruns."

"Kiss up," Lucius snorted. Goyle and Crabbe passed gas in agreement.

"I meant I couldn't hear myself thinking of diabolical plans to kill Harry Potter," Voldemort corrected, blushing very red for someone so pale.

"I mean no disrespect," interjected Dolohov, "but if you haven't been able to kill him for fifteen years, what makes you think you'll be able to kill him now?"

"Ooh, ooh!" Rookwood jumped around wildly with his hand raised. "Pick me!"

Voldemort sighed. "Yes, Rookwood?"

"Harry Potter is like fruitcake!" Rookwood exclaimed.

"Sorry?" Voldemort asked. "Run that by me again."

"Fruitcake is indestructible. You can't do anything to it," Rookwood started. "Like Harry Potter. You'll never be able to kill him. Fruitcake and Harry Potter are like the things in life that you wish you could get rid of but can't. You just have to suck it up and hope for the best. Once you accept your problems, you can live in harmony with nature. Not too much yin, not too much yang. It's the key to inner peace!"

He stopped, breathless. Peter started clapping enthusiastically, his metal hand clanging, until he realized no one else was applauding with him.

Voldemort coughed awkwardly. "Well, thank you, Rookwood. I think I'll get back to Sesa- I mean, plotting."

"What?" Rookwood asked the silent room of Death Eaters. "Just because I'm evil doesn't mean I'm stupid like Macnair here."

Macnair grunted.

Narcissa cleared her throat. "Well, anyone want some fruitcake?"


	16. 1977: Baking

**Oh my Rowling! Another missed update. Sorry! But there are two chapters today to compensate, so all's well that end's well.**

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><p><span>December 16: 1977<span>

_9 days until Christmas…_

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><p>"You're not serious!" Lily exclaimed.<p>

"'Course I'm not Sirius. I'm James," her boyfriend quipped cheekily.

She groaned. "Enough with the bad pun. I meant that you've really never baked Christmas food? Ever?"

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p'. "My family has a house elf, remember? And when we do make food, there's always magic."

She pulled him by the crook of his elbow. "Well, come on then!"

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see!"

"Wait- you know how to get into the kitchens?" James asked as Lily tickled the pear on a gold-framed painting.

"Let's just say that the Marauders were never good at keeping their voices down in the common room."

"Hey-" James started to protest.

"Hello, sir and madam," a cheery house elf in a tea towel toga greeted them. "Can Minsy be of service to you today?"

Lily smiled and whispered something in the elf's floppy ear.

An hour later, she was no longer smiling. "James! Don't pour the yolk into the bowl. Ugh, I'll do it."

He stepped away from the mixing bowl, hands held up in surrender. "Okay, you can do it. I'll, um…"

"Take the cake out of the oven," Lily ordered, stirring a new batch of frosting.

"OWW!" James shouted.

Lily turned around, knocking over a bin of flour and covering the kitchen with what looked like finely powdered snow.

James held out his ghostly white hand. "I burned myself."

"_Aguamenti!_" Lily said, yanking her wand out of her back pocket and releasing more swirling clouds of flour.

"Thanks," James managed, soaking his fingers in the cold water.

Lily stared around the kitchen. Broken egg shells floated in puddles of milk that dripped waterfalls into mounds of flour. Half-melted sticks of butter and a crumpled bag of sugar obscured the countertop. "I think… I think maybe cooking just isn't your thing."

James examined his blistered hand. "Ya think?"


	17. 1994: Very, uh, Unique Socks

December 17: 1994

_8 days until Christmas..._

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><p>The clerk at Gladrag's Wizardwear was bored.<p>

He had been at his new job for the past seven hours, and not one customer had entered the store, despite it being a Hogsmeade weekend for the nearby school of Hogwarts.

He crumpled his Daily Prophet into a ball and threw it into the rubbish bin across the store, where it landed on top of an equally crumpled copy of Witch Weekly. If asked, he could probably recite the whole article on the new laws of broomstick regulations; he'd read it so many times.

_Brriing!_

The clerk sat up straighter as the door swung open and two boys entered.

"Good morning. How can I help you?"

"Just looking," the shorter of the two boys said. He had messy jet black hair and round glasses framing vivid green eyes. As the taller, red-haired boy closed the door, a gust of wind blew a tuft of black bangs back, revealing a lightning shaped scar.

The clerk stared. No one since this morning, and then suddenly _Harry Potter_ walked into the store?

"Which one?" the Potter boy asked, holding up a pair of green socks with purple zigzags and a pair of neon pink socks knitted with blinking Christmas lights.

The red haired boy snorted. "How about these?" He yanked a flashing gold and silver sock out of the Clearance pile.

"It hasn't got a pair!" Potter protested.

"It's not like Dobby will care."

The two laughed.

They dug through the mound of socks for a while before ringing up for them the ugliest clothing in the store: the flashing gold and silver sock and a pair that screamed loudly when it got smelly.

The clerk watched them leave and then leaned back in his chair.

People could be strange.

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><p><strong>I always wondered what people thought when Ron and Harry bought those socks for Dobby in fourth year...<strong>


	18. 1966: His Angel

December 18: 1966

_7 days until Christmas…_

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><p>"Angels we have heard on high," the choir of white-robed angels with tinsel halos belted out. Half of them, anyway. The other half was busy stealing each other's bells or yanking their wings.<p>

"Aren't they adorable?" a woman who strongly resembled a Barbie cooed.

Mrs. Evans nodded absentmindedly and waved to her daughters standing in the front row.

Petunia nodded politely and kept singing, "Gloooooooooooooooria… in excelsis deo."

Lily grinned and waved enthusiastically, the sleeves of her robe flapping madly.

"And that was the first and second grade class of South Cokeworth Elementary," the teacher announced brightly, prying apart two angels shredding each other's wings. "I know all our students and their teachers have worked very hard to prepare this recital, so I'd like to thank you all for coming here today. I hope you all have a very merry Christmas."

She herded the children back to their classes, where their parents were already waiting.

"Mummy, Daddy, did you see me?" Lily shrieked, jumping into her father's arms.

He swung her around with a laugh. "'Course I did, Lils. You're a hard one to miss."

Lily giggled as he affectionately ruffled her dark red hair, knocking her halo askew.

Petunia entered, looking dignified in her white blouse and black velvet skirt. "Lily forgot half the lyrics. I had to mouth them to her."

"Well, thank you, Tuney," Lily said mock politely.

"Where are your parents?" the teacher asked, touching a sallow-skinned boy on the shoulder.

He jumped in surprise and turned away from the Evans family to face her. "They, erm, couldn't come."

Her perfectly plucked eyebrows drew together. "Oh, that's too bad. I'm sure they missed your amazing performance."

He nodded, and then escaped to the door outside before she could realize he wasn't even in her class.

Looking back into the warm, cheery room, he could see Lily laughing and crumbling a cookie into a boy's hair. A balloon floated across the doorway, and when someone moved it away, she was gone.

Maybe it was just as well. It wasn't like he could fit into her world, with its bright lights and warm mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows.

But he could still hope.

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><p><strong>100 REVIEWS! :D<strong>

**Oh, and if you have any ideas for more Christmas oneshots, I'll be glad to hear them.**


	19. 1997: Moving On

**Calypso- You didn't have an account for me to PM, so I'll reply to your review here. The boy in the previous chapter was Snape, and yes, I do read every single review.**

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><p><span>December 19: 1997<span>

_6 days until Christmas…_

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><p>"<em>I get it. You choose him."<em>

_Jealousy. Contempt. Anger. Hatred?_

"_Ron, come back!"_

_Pushing through the shield charm. Tripping through the forest._

_Encountering silence._

"_He's gone. Disapparated."_

Hermione woke, the tip of her nose freezing in the chilly air.

It was all a nightmare. Ron was still here.

She opened one eye a crack and turned towards his bunk.

Empty.

She pulled the blanket over her head and fell asleep to another round of nightmares.

"_You two carry on. Don't mind me."_

"_Why don't you get back to Vicky?"_

"_Hermione."_

_Lavender kissing Ron. Ron kissing her back._

"_Hermione!"_

She wakes again, the rough cover pulling away and leaving creases in her cheek.

"Hermione," Harry says, "we'd better get going."

She dawdles. They both do, looking into the forest, expecting Ron. They tie and retie bundles. Brush away specks of dust.

Several times she bursts into silent tears, hiding them from Harry.

He has enough on his mind. He doesn't know what the last Horcrux is.

Soon, it becomes clear that to stay in one place any longer is dangerous.

They have to move on.

She moves on. Her fingers stuff the supplies into her purse. Her feet take her to a new deserted area. Her mouth casts the enchantments that will keep them safe.

Her body moves on.

But not her soul.


	20. 2025: All I Want for Christmas Part I

December 20: 2025

_5 days until Christmas…_

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><p>"Try this," Rose giggled, shoving a bedazzled Santa hat onto Scorpius' blond hair.<p>

He struck a pose in front of the full length mirror and whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "I think the clerk thinks I have issues."

Rose glanced behind her at the young witch at the front counter, who, sure enough, was giving them funny looks through her dark blue bangs.

"I think you have issues, too." Rose stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "But in a good way. Oh, and if I were you, I'd ditch the hat." She pulled it off his head and tossed it back onto the cardboard display.

"C'mon," Scorpius put an arm around her shoulders. "We promised we'd meet Albus and Julie back in the Leaky Cauldron and we're already late."

They strolled down the cobblestone street of Diagon Alley, snow dusting the slanted roofs of shops overhead.

"There you are," Julie said, setting her Butterbeer on the table. "I was beginning to think you two accidentally wandered into Knockturn Alley."

"Or maybe took a detour," Albus said, raising his eyebrows suggestively and smirking.

Rose took off her coat and draped it on the back of a chair. "For your information, we were sidetracked."

"Oh, really?" Albus asked sardonically.

Rose turned to Julie. "Make your boyfriend stop being perverted."

"He's your cousin!"

Scorpius stopped a waitress nearby and ordered drinks for himself and Rose.

"So, done with Christmas shopping?" Albus asked as the waitress scurried away.

Scorpius snuck a glance at Rose, who was chatting animatedly with Julie. "Not really. There's something else I have to get."

Albus, as thick as he could be sometimes, caught on quickly. "Hey, why don't we go check out Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?"

"'Kay, I haven't seen Roxy in forever!" Julie gathered up her bags.

Rose turned to Scorpius. "Are you coming?"

"I have a little more shopping to do," Scorpius said, waving her off. "Go have fun. I'll meet you there later."

He drained the last dregs of his Gillywater and reentered Diagon Alley, checking both ways to make sure he wasn't being followed.

A wizard pushing a large cart covered in black cloth hurried by. Scorpius ducked behind it, following it to Diagon Alley's south side.

Paragon's Fine Jewelry, the sign beckoned loudly. Beneath the curly writing, a wooden diamond shape swayed in the wind.

He entered the store with his heart feeling like he'd just finished an overly-exerting Quidditch game.

"Good morning," the wizard behind the counter said. He pushed his round glasses up his nose. "How may I be of assistance?"

"I, er, uh," Scorpius mumbled. "I'm looking for a ring."

The storekeeper perused through a few trays beneath the counter. "Anything specific in mind?"

"It's an engagement ring," Scorpius confessed. "For my girlfriend."

"Ah," the old man's face, creased with age, broke out into a smile. "What's her name?"

"Rose."

"She pretty?" he asked, placing two wooden trays on the glass counter and motioning Scorpius forward for a closer look.

Scorpius ran his hand over the multicolored gems. "Very. The prettiest girl you've ever seen."

"And now you have to find a ring to match, eh?"

"Yeah, something like that. Won't be easy though." Scorpius smiled, feeling already at ease.

"Any limit on price?" the man behind the counter asked.

Scorpius shook his head. "Just tell me whatever it costs to buy the perfect ring, and I'll pay for it."

The man nodded approvingly. "Alright, then. These here are marked at over a hundred Galleons."

Scorpius browsed through the selection. Too tacky. Too flashy. Too gold. Too silver.

He pushed away the first tray and started sifting through the second. Ugly. Clunky. Small. Big. Wide. Thin. He started to move the tray aside when another ring snagged in the lining caught his eye. "How much for this one?"

"Hundred Galleons and ten Sickles."

"I'll take it."

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><p><strong>OMR! (Oh My Rowling) I cheated you out of seeing the proposal! Jk. Review and you'll get it in the next chapter.<strong>


	21. 2025: All I Want for Christmas Part II

**December 21st in 2025 is the Winter Solstice. This year, the Winter solstice is tomorrow. Just clearing that up.**

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><p><span>December 21: 2025<span>

_4 days until Christmas…_

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><p>He played with the box in his pocket. How was he supposed to give it to her?<p>

"Take her out to a Quidditch game and make an announcement out loud," James suggested, locking up the broom cupboard of the Burrow. "Everybody loves Quidditch."

"Make her dinner," Lily said.

"Give her the ring as a Christmas present."

"Do something super cheesy and romantic."

"Don't do something super cheesy and romantic."

"Just carry the box with you. You'll know when the right moment comes."

"Plan it out. Don't just wait for the 'right moment.'"

Everyone seemed to have a different idea of the perfect marriage proposal.

And of course, the one person he always asked when it came to a hard decision was the one person he absolutely couldn't ask.

So he turned to Albus.

"I don't really think there's any specific way," Albus said. "Just… say it. Good luck."

He sighed. No time like the present.

She was on the edge of the balcony, leaning across the railing, her red brown curls falling loose around her shoulders.

"Hey." Scorpius snuck up behind Rose and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his nose in the sweet scent of her hair.

She laughed and touched his cheek. "What're you doing out here?"

"Looking for you," Scorpius replied, kissing the side of her neck. "You disappeared right after dinner."

"Just watching the sunset," she gestured towards the orange sky. "It's the shortest day of the year, you know. The winter solstice."

"Only you would know that." Scorpius released her and pointed over her shoulder. "Look at that."

"At what? There's noth- Oh!" She clapped her hand over her mouth as she turned around to see him before her. He kneeled on one knee, the jewelry box open in front of him.

"Rose Evie Weasley," Scorpius started, his mouth dry, "I love you. I loved you from that first day on the Hogwarts Express and I- I just- Oh, screw it. Will you marry me?"

"Haha… Wait, seriously? What the- are you sure?"

"Um… yeah?"

"Duh, yes!" she shrieked, kissing him.

"Oh, good," Scorpius said, relieved, returning her embrace. "Are you crying?"

"Yes," Rose sniffled. "In a good way."

Scorpius gently removed the ring from the box. "May I?"

She nodded mutely, tears running down her face.

The slim platinum band with a faceted green gemstone in the center and smaller diamonds on either side caught the last rays of the sun and showered the two of them with bits of light.

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><p><strong>Lol, Rose. "Are you sure?" I wrote this whole thing with Will and Elizabeth's proposalwedding in mind (from PotC), in order to keep it from getting too dramatic and soap opera-y. Review and give me your thoughts!**


	22. 1975: I Won't Be Home For Christmas

**Next chapter will be here this afternoon.**

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><p><span>December 22: 1975<span>

_3 days until Christmas…_

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><p>"Waaaaaakeeee up!" James called into Sirius' room on his way downstairs.<p>

"Go'way," Sirius mumbled into his pillow.

"We're having bacon sandwiches," James wheedled.

Sirius shot up. "Last one downstairs is a rabid doxy!"

The two shoved each other out of the way, tripping down three flights of stairs and landing in the living room.

"Well, well, someone's a bit hyper this morning," Mrs. Potter chuckled, sipping a warm mug of Butterbeer. "Presents are under the tree, but," she raised her voice as James and Sirius both started towards it, "breakfast first."

"Oh, come on, love," Mr. Potter argued, entering the room. "Just today?"

"I love you, mum," James added.

Mrs. Potter rolled her eyes. "Alright, then. Go ahead."

"Excellent!" James tore open his biggest parcel. "A Nimbus 1001! Thanks, mum, dad."

"You really didn't have to get me anything," Sirius protested as he unwrapped a Quidditch jersey for his favorite team, the Wimbourne Wasps. He shook it out and five tickets for their next game fluttered to the floor. "Merling, thank you! You shouldn't have."

"Well if you don't want them, I'll take them," Mr. Potter joked.

Mrs. Potter pulled out a clunky box camera. "Don't forget family pictures!"

Sirius got up to leave.

"Oh, no you don't, young man," Mrs. Potter scolded.

"But I'm…"

"…not part of the family?" She snapped a picture as James dove under a pile of shredded gift wrap to hide. "Don't even try that lame excuse on me."

"Sit up straight, dear. A little to the left… oh, that looks lovely!"

_Click._

_Click._

_Click._

Bright spots were still flashing in front of Sirius's eyes as he sat down to breakfast.

But that wasn't all that was wrong.

He tilted his chair back and surveyed the room. Stockings, presents, food…

And then it struck him.

It was his first Christmas away from home. His first Christmas without his mother whining about his "dishonor to the family" and his brother yammering about Voldy-what's-his-face and his father glaring at his red-and-gold room disappointedly.

He didn't miss home one bit.


	23. 1986: Prank Gone Wrong

December 23: 1986

_2 days until Christmas…_

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><p>"Always pick quantity over quality," Fred intoned.<p>

George shoved him. "That's why our tree last year crashed halfway to Christmas, remember?"

"That was the squirrel's fault, not mine!" Fred protested.

"Boys," Mrs. Weasley warned. "Be good."

"I think this one will do, Father," Percy said, singling out a fir tree a few yards away. Average height, average size, heck, average color.

"Bor-ing," Fred sang. "Everyone's tree looks like that."

"Too big?" Bill asked, standing next to a bushy pine.

"Definitely," six-year-old Ron piped up.

Mr. Weasley shouldered his axe. "Whichever one you want, you'd better choose soon. Your little sister's about to freeze to death."

"Am not!" Ginny lied, quickly shrugging her mother's arm off her shoulder. "Oh! That one!"

Her little mittened hand slid out of her coat pocket and pointed at a rounded cone-shaped evergreen.

"All in favor?" Mr. Weasley asked.

Everyone raised their hands, though Percy did so reluctantly.

"Looks like we've found our tree."

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><p>"Go run and get the box of tinsel down from the attic, Ron, dear," Mrs. Weasley said as they came back to the Burrow, "Fred, George, you two start making popcorn garlands."<p>

"But, mum," Fred complained. "Why can't I go get the ornaments instead?"

"Go help your brothers."

"Mum, is this it?" Ron asked, walking downstairs with an oversize box overflowing with sparkly silver decorations.

"Ah, yes. Thank you, honey."

"You're welcome," Ron chirped. He ran to give the box to his mother and tripped over Fred's popcorn decoration. It snapped and sent kernels flying in all directions.

"Oh, Fred, honestly!" Mrs. Weasley reprimanded.

"It wasn't my fault!" Fred insisted. "You always take Ron's side!"

Ron clutched his beat up teddy bear to his chest and hid behind his mother.

"Now, Fred, you know that isn't true," Mr. Weasley interjected from across the room, making paper streamers erupt out of his wand.

"Yes, it is!" Fred cried. "I hate all of you! Especially you!" He shouted at Ron.

Ron shrank behind Mrs. Weasley's apron.

Suddenly he screamed and dropped his stuffed bear, which had become a spider the size of a small dog.

Mrs. Weasley pulled her wand out of her pocket. "Reverso incantant!" The spider disappeared and the bear lay on the floor smiling with its lopsidedly sewn mouth.

"I'm sorry, Ron." Fred blurted after a stretching silence.

Ron burst into tears and ran upstairs.

And every Christmas after that was never the same.


	24. Special Note from the Author

**Me: So, uh, how's it going?**

**Hermione: "How's it going?" You start this story and promise to update every day and then just stop without any explanation and then come back a month later and say, "How's it going?"**

**Me: I'm sorry?**

***Hermione leaves the room***

**Me: So... I'm really really sorry for disappointing you. (Yes, you, the person reading this.) Apologies to ALL my cherished readers and reviewers. ):**

**If at least five people leave a review asking me to, I'll write two more chapters to complete the story.**

**And feel free to flame. I probably deserve it. **


	25. 2003: Perfectly Perfect

**Not entirely happy with the way this chapter turned out, but I didn't want to wait so long without updating. Enjoy!**

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><p><span>December 24: 2003<span>

_1 day until Christmas…_

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><p>"…yes, I still need to unpack a few more boxes." Hermione Spellotaped gift wrap on a large box as someone on the other end of the phone said something. "Oh, no, you go ahead without me. I'm busy all day, all week actually. Okay. Yeah, listen, I'll talk to you later, I have so much stuff to do. Alright, bye."<p>

"Funny things, those Muggle fellytones," Ron said, coming into the living room of their brand new flat chewing a cookie. He shuffled through the sea of boxes littering the apartment.

"Telephone," Hermione corrected automatically. "And yes they are. More dignified than Floo powder, anyway." She flipped through a small notebook stuffed with sticky notes and receipts, mumbling to herself. "Decorate tree. Take Teddy and Victoire to go see department store Santa. Cook Christmas cake for Burrow family reunion."

Her mouth fell open. "The Christmas cake! Ron, what time is it?"

"Quarter past five, why?"

"I still need to make the cake!" She moaned. "And it has to be done by seven! I still need to unpack all these boxes," she gestured around her wildly, "and the paperwork for the Elf Labor Act is due tomorrow and-"

"Hermione," Ron said.

"-they're completely out of green ribbon and Harry and Ginny are coming over this afternoon and-"

"Hermione!"

"Don't snap at me, Ronald," she snarled. "I've been working harder than a house elf all day. Not even half my list is done and I'm already burnt out and I-" She burst into tears.

"Hey, don't cry," Ron whispered into her hair as he kneeled and pulled her close to him.

She buried her face in his shirt and sobbed, "I wanted it to be perfect. Our first Christmas together."

"Things don't have to be 'perfect' to be perfect," Ron assured her, his hand stroking her cheek. "And this is perfect enough for me."

She rubbed her sleeve across her red rimmed eyes. "Really?"

"Really," he confirmed. "Now go get dressed. We have a family reunion to go to."

"The cake…"

"…is in the kitchen. I bought one at the bakery on the corner. Figured you wouldn't have time to make one."

A watery smile graced her lips. "You know, sometimes I'm really glad I married you."

"Only sometimes?" he teased.

"I'm always really glad I married you."

"Me, too."


	26. 2084: Coming Home

**Last chapter... in March. But better late than never.**

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><p><span>December 25: 2084<span>

_0 days until Christmas…_

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><p>If a Muggle in Godric's Hollow had passed by the town's churchyard that frigid Christmas night, he or she might have seen an elderly couple kneeling in the fresh snow.<p>

No one would have found it strange; people visiting relatives who had passed on were an ordinary sight during the holidays.

But the two people were anything but ordinary.

If you watched closely, you might see the silver-haired woman lay a wreath of blood red flowers on the ground. Except that she hadn't been carrying a wreath of flowers.

The two said little, just stood there at the double tombstone, their backs bent whether from reverence or age, no one could tell.

The ancient, weathered man lingered for a moment at the grave as the woman stood at the kissing gate, patiently waiting for him. Decades ago, his snow white hair had been a youthful jet black, his shaking and spotted fingers once capable of the most delicate of motions. All he had left in his old age were his startlingly green eyes, which filled with tears as he murmured, "I'll be home soon, mum."

He pulled his scarlet-and-gold scarf closer around his neck and retraced his steps between the rows of headstones. At the gate, he stole a last glance at the red flowers still propped up against the white marble.

The woman quietly slid her mittened hand into his as they continued down the street, past the war memorial, and into the shadowy unknown of a smaller alley.

And a choir started singing in the church, the melodies floating towards the stars, a song both hopeful and bittersweet.


	27. Thanks

**Due to time restraints and other stuff, I didn't keep a list of all my reviewers. But they know who they are and hopefully they also know how grateful I am for them.**

**Special thanks to...**

**pottergoose, wingswordsandmetaphors, sugarrush12, DeliaDee, Drunk Acorn Bear, omgitsablueberrymuffin, alfiesurprise101, silmarien85, The Mysterious E, and Voldemort has no nose **

**for motivating me to finish this story, a month after I abandoned it.**

**Even if you didn't review, you still showed up on the Traffic Stats, so I also want to thank all my "invisible" readers.**

**Thank you all,  
>~daughterofathena7 <strong>


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